


My Only Love

by DGCatAniSiri



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: King Alistair, M/M, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 21:58:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15649725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DGCatAniSiri/pseuds/DGCatAniSiri
Summary: Coming back to Denerim, Aedan Cousland meets with King Alistair, and thinks he needs to loosen up a little.





	My Only Love

Being an advisor to the King of Ferelden, his trusted right hand, was a task that certainly was not for the faint of heart. Aedan Cousland considered it potentially more dangerous than facing down the archdemon. After all, the archdemon would merely kill you. Dealing with the noble court, you couldn’t even stab something – or someone - to make yourself feel better. 

And yet, he knew, he still had the easy job. After all, he was just coordinating Ferelden’s recovery efforts (Lothering and several of the surrounding villagers were lost to the Blight, but some of the blighted lands were possibly salvageable, if they tried). Even when he had to deal with the nobles, he had the familiarity of doing so from when he sat in on things with his father. Bryce Cousland hadn’t bought into the idea that only his eldest should learn the matters of court – the worst that happened in teaching both ‘the heir and the spare’ how to rule was that one of them never got to put that knowledge into practical application. And there were many things one could learn at court that could be applied in life anyway.

That was experience that Alistair lacked. And while he was certainly capable, managing, even could be said to be holding his head above water... It was still a difficult task. 

Aedan was a familiar sight at the castle, none of the servants did more than look up at him as he made his way through the halls. He finally found his way to Alistair’s study, seeing Alistair struggling with a series of maps and some copies of standing arrangements between Ferelden and various other nations. 

“The war against paperwork is one no one wins or walks away from intact,” he said with a gentle grin.

Alistair looked up in surprise, though he fell into a good-natured scowl. “I should make you do this. You’re the one who said I should be king, you know.”

“As I recall, it was Eamon who led the charge. I just agreed when he said that you’d make a better leader than Anora.” Aedan’s teasing grin eventually drew out a small laugh from Alistair. It seemed like the king couldn’t stay angry for long when it came to the other man. 

“It was still your word in the end.” Alistair shook his head, rising from his desk. “Still, I’m glad you’re here, my friend.”

He said it in a way that made Aedan think that there was some specific problem with the nobility, making him let out a disgusted sigh – they seemed to be intent on making things worse just by breathing, let alone any of their actions. “Is it Bann Ceorlic again? My father always thought he was little more than a weak-willed toady to whoever was in power...”

“It’s... Well, it’s all of it.” Alistair sighed. “It’s being king. I keep thinking that this... This is some dream. Or nightmare. And that eventually... I’ll wake up.”

With a gentle teasing grin, Aedan leaned against the desk and crossed his arm. “Would it still be the Blight, or would we have defeated it and you’d be back at Weisshaupt or some other Warden fortress?”

That took a moment of consideration on Alistair’s part. “To be honest, I’m not really sure. I just know that... This is nothing I was ready for. I still don’t understand why you thought I’d be better at this than Anora.”

“Truthfully? I’m not sure that it was so much about you being better than Anora than being afraid that she’d see you as a threat to the legitimacy of her rule as long as you lived.” Aedan had been torn that day in the Landsmeet – he’d known that Alistair didn’t want the throne, and having Anora on their side had been part of their goal, but there had been much about her approach to things that had made him nervous, not the least the fact that she seemed to share her father’s belief that only she could solve things. Aedan hadn’t been sure that Ferelden could use more Mac Tir help. Sure, Loghain had been King Maric’s right hand through the war for Ferelden independence from Orlais, but Loghain had also driven them into civil war during a Blight. And Anora had let him, had allowed him to act in her name.

There had been reasons for and against supporting her. She had the experience of ruling the nation. She wasn’t wrong about how well she’d served the nation in the day to day rule. Aedan had seen the appraising look in her eye, however. He’d heard of her dismissal of Alistair during the time that the two of them had been confined in Fort Drakon’s prison. She’d seen Alistair as a rival for the throne, no matter his protestations. And she would have seen him as such even if Eamon hadn’t been pushing for him to take the throne. 

At the time of the Landsmeet, Aedan had been afraid that the only way she’d accept that Alistair had no desire for the throne would be if she’d taken his head off. Between that and the fact that the nation needed a leader who understood the need for the Wardens, would put what the nation needed above the things they believed were needed. Anora, like her father, believed she was the only one who could protect Ferelden in its time of need. Given what her father had done, Aedan hadn’t believed Ferelden would come out intact if it turned to her for protection.

Still, since then, Alistair had brought her in as one of his advisors, and she’d done a solid job of working with him so far. They’d see if she’d hold to her promises to renounce all claim to the throne.

“Well,” Alistair said, not having had anywhere near the same level of consideration to the concept that Aedan had put into the question, “I still sometimes think about just telling her that the crown is all hers. That she can be the queen she wanted to be, let me go back to being just a Warden.”

“You realize that, at this point, there’s no way anyone – Anora, Eamon, the Landsmeet – would let you do that, right? You’re the king. You’re specifically the king who led Ferelden through a Blight.” 

The reminder just made Alistair moan and hang his head in frustration. Aedan couldn’t help but laugh at the predicament – despite Alistair’s discomfort, he WAS a good kind. He listened to his advisors, then followed his heart. Regardless of how the nobility felt about it, more often than not, the people of Ferelden loved him for it. He knew what it was to be one of them, and that meant he had a better idea of what they needed from their leaders than many of those leaders themselves. He wasn’t perfect, but he was probably one of the most well-loved and well-respected leaders in memory.

Seeing that Alistair’s frustrations were, at the moment, overwhelming him, Aedan decided to take pity on him. “You need to relax, Alistair. The paperwork will keep to morning. Let’s have something to drink and talk about more pleasant things.”

“More pleasant things? Like another darkspawn invasion, maybe?”

***

A few hours later, and several flagons drained, Alistair seemed positively bubbly – Aedan had learned when to cut him off before he drifted into the realm of melancholy drunk. He fortunately didn’t get to that point quickly, but it had happened a few times during their time together, pretty much only after the really bad days, the days that hadn’t felt like much of a victory for the Grey Wardens and company. 

Admittedly, doing his kingly duties tended to encourage that feeling of not having a victory as well, but there was still a sense that things were overall going right. It was a difficult task, being king. 

“...and you did it to me, too,” Alistair said. There was no bite in the remark, but there was still a hint of anger, a little frustration with having to deal with the realities of being king.

Aedan nodded, willing to accept that anger. He’d made a call, they had to live with it, but Alistair had effectively suffered from that decision. “For what it’s worth, my friend, if I’d seen a better option at the time, I’d have taken it.”

Alistair made a noise. “Sure, you can say that...” he said. “You know, you could have been king.”

“The closest Anora would have let me to the throne would have been as ‘prince-consort.’ She was very clear how much she was not going to play second fiddle if a Theirin wasn’t in the picture.”

“And? You’re a Cousland. I’ve heard the Landsmeet talk about how your father was nearly made king over Cailan.”

That had been a long-standing rumor back in the day. Even Dairren, Lady Landra Loren’s son, had spoken about it, and Aedan had heard it in plenty of corners during the time before Cailan had attained the throne – there’d been more than a few suitors trying to gain the attention and affection of the eligible bachelor son of a potential king. But Bryce Cousland had never been interested in the throne, and his loyalty to the Theirins was stronger than any ambition he might have had. Teryn Cousland wouldn’t have been king.

Not that it stopped people from considering how things might have been.

Speaking of turning to a melancholy drunk... Aedan could feel himself turning more maudlin at the thought of his father, wondering what might have come had he become king. Would he have still gone to Ostagar? Would he have waited for reinforcements, pulled back when it became clear the darkspawn were massing? 

Alistair seemed to recognize that he’d hit Aedan somewhere sensitive, and quickly managed to realize what it was specifically. “Oh, Maker’s breath, I’m a fool, bringing up your father...”

“No, it’s fine, Alistair. Really. I... It’s been more than a year.” Closer to two, really, and that was one of the harder things to realize, that his family’s brutal murder had been long enough ago that it was no longer fresh in his mind. Even gutting Rendon Howe hadn’t been enough to settle these feelings, yet time had soothed that wound all the same. He’d once thought that pain would never fade away, and yet here he was, able to put that aside. He could feel the desire to linger in that pain, but he could push it away.

“Still... You don’t get over something like that easily. I’m sorry for...” Alistair hung his head. “This is why I’m such a lousy king. If I can’t avoid saying something stupid to you, of all people, how am I going to handle diplomacy?”

“You’ll have advisors on hand,” Aedan said. “Teagan would, if no one else, be able to offer you good advice.”

There was a moment of quiet between them, and then Alistair, with a look that greatly resembled sobriety, turned to Aedan. “What about... you?”

“Of course I’d be there for you, as much as I could.” Aedan still had duties, running Amaranthine. He’d accepted that responsibility for the Wardens. Much as he’d like to consider running from it, his father had taught him enough that he couldn’t just shirk the duty he’d been given.

And yet, even before Alistair spoke again, Aedan knew that he’d meant something else, something more, with his question. “I don’t mean as an advisor. I mean... Would you be there... with me?”

There was a long silence between them at that. 

Seemingly taking Aedan’s silence as a refusal, Alistair looked down and away, looking like he was going to race from his seat, possibly the room. “Maker, what am I saying? I shouldn’t have said anything. You... You should probably just forget that I-” Aedan reached out and grabbed Alistair by the arm, holding him in place until he finally met Aedan’s gaze.

“Alistair... Please. I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding. What... exactly... are you asking from me?” Aedan fought to keep his voice steady. If Alistair was asking what he thought...

“I...” Alistair hesitated. Despite the various things he’d faced during the Blight – darkspawn, undead, dragons, Morrigan – he seemed afraid to face this one question, this thing that a friend wanted to know. Still, he managed to muster up the ability to speak, though he still had to look away from Aedan to do so. “I... care about you, Aedan. Deeply. And, not that I haven’t appreciated your friendship, but... I’ve wanted more from you. For... for a while now.” He sighed. “And now I... I’ve ruined that. I’ve made things horribly awkward, so-”

Silencing Alistair’s rambling was only a fringe benefit of kissing him. 

Alistair let out a muffled shout of surprise, clearly not having expected any possibility of Aedan returning his feelings. It took him a moment to seem to realize that he was being kissed, that Aedan was intentionally doing this. Hesitantly, he began to return the kiss, needing a few moments to figure out where he should put his hands. He settled one on Aedan’s upper arm, the other falling to his side.

Finally, Aedan pulled back. “Not that awkward,” he said with a teasing grin. 

“I... I suppose not.” Alistair let out a relieved laugh, seeming unable to process more than the fact that this had just happened. He gave Aedan a smile full of adoration and relief. “So... You... feel the same way for me that I do for you?”

“Alistair... If you’d asked me back during our journey, I’d have taken you up on that offer... from pretty much Ostagar.” Aedan couldn’t help but laugh. “Alistair, you... You really didn’t notice how much I care for you? How much I wanted for... anything between us?” Aedan didn’t even begin to recite the nights spent in his tent, thinking about the other Grey Warden, wondering what it would be like for them to be together. Not just imagining them making love, though there’d certainly been plenty of those fantasies, but even simple things like the two of them together, living the life they could have had if they’d met and there’d been no Blight and no Howe. Letting his family meet Alistair, the two of them settling down together, maybe raising a pack of mabari... There’d been a life that they could have had.

They couldn’t actually have it, of course – not only had there been a Blight and Howe, but Alistair had been the only remaining Theirin, the last of the bloodline. Eamon had been so determined to get a Theirin on the throne, it was unlikely at best that he’d have let Alistair walk away from the throne with Cailan’s death, even if they hadn’t had to oust Loghain. 

Alistair blinked in surprise at the admission. “I... You... Really? You... you felt this way before? And... Maker’s breath, I’m a fool...”

“No more fool than I, considering I didn’t realize your feelings any more than you did mine,” Aedan chuckled. To think, they could have had something more between them for all this time.

That made Alistair nod, agreeing with the point. Then, seemingly feeling bold, he leaned in for a second kiss, one that he held. He didn’t seem to want to let there be any distance now after so long. So long of wishing, wanting, imagining... And they hadn’t even begun to compare. 

Gently, Aedan pulled Alistair to his feet, holding the kiss. They wrapped their arms around one another, holding close, both of them still not entirely sure that this wasn’t some fever dream brought on by excessive drinking. But Aedan knew that they certainly hadn’t had enough to drink to make this anything that they didn’t want – Alistair might have let his inhibitions be lowered, but only enough to make him admit how he felt, not make him unable to consent to what it seemed they were up to. 

Besides, Alistair was, at the moment, the one pushing him towards the bedroom. He seemed to be seizing his moment now that he had it in his hands. Aedan couldn’t exactly blame him, knowing how much he wished that this moment had come sooner, where they admitted that they’d felt this way for one another. All that time lost between them...

There were some other thoughts that seemed to swirl around him at that thought, recognition of responsibilities that existed outside of this room, but Aedan pushed them away. What he needed now was the man in his arms. Nothing else mattered like Alistair did. 

Alistair’s confidence, though, only seemed to last long enough to push Aedan against the bed, at which point, he faltered, looking uncertain of his next move. Aedan remembered that he’d never... licked a lamppost in winter (where had he even come up with that one, Aedan had wondered at the time), and he’d never had the opportunity to change that fact since, given the kingly duties. 

Propping himself on his elbows, Aedan made direct eye contact with Alistair. “Hey. Look at me.”

“I... I’m sorry, I’m... I’m not sure...”

Aedan reached out and pulled Alistair on top of him, flashing him a grin. “It’s okay, Alistair. I know you don’t have much experience.” Gently, he pressed a kiss to Alistair’s lips. “We’ll take this at whatever speed you want.” They’d taken this long to come together. Doing everything at once... They didn’t need to try everything yet. 

“Maker... Aedan, I want... I want everything.”

“I know, Alistair. I do too. But... We don’t need to do everything. Not yet.” Aedan could feel Alistair shiver at that word – ‘yet.’ The confirmation that this wasn’t something that Aedan intended to leave as a one-time affair. “We’ll have time.”

“I... Maker, yes.” Alistair dropped his head against Aedan’s neck, shaking with relief. He didn’t even seem to be able to register anything but the body he was pressed up against, just holding close to Aedan, as tight as possible. “Aedan... I love you. I’ve loved you for so long...”

“I know. I know. Me too.” Aedan turned his head, pressing soft kisses to the side of Alistair’s face. 

***

Sunlight struck Aedan’s face, pulling him out of the grips of sleep. He’d had a lovely dream, and deeply regretted being dragged out of it...

...and then he felt the weight of another body pressed against him, and realized that it hadn’t been just a dream. Though the images of him and Alistair in the throes of passion were – he and the other man were still fully clothed, having apparently passed out before they could actually try anything.

Remembering Alistair’s hesitation and uncertainty, Aedan couldn’t help but chuckle at that fact. All his concern, and they’d gone no further than a fevered session of heated kisses. 

The gentle rumble of Aedan’s chest seemed to rouse Alistair from his slumber. “Mm... G’morning,” Alistair mumbled, seeming unaware or unconcerned with his shared bed.

“Morning,” Aedan answered, and he pressed a kiss to Alistair’s forehead, even as awareness seemed to return to Alistair’s consciousness.

Aedan could see the flash of panic as Alistair processed the fact that he was not alone in his royal bed, that Aedan – the man he was in love with – was with him. The panic seemed to be settled by the recognition that yes, Aedan was kissing him. 

He pulled back to smile at Alistair. “I could easily get used to waking up like this.”

“I... I would like that myself,” Alistair said, smiling. Then he blanched. “Oh, Maker...”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Eamon. He... He’s been pushing me to find an... acceptable wife. Secure the throne, all that.” 

Aedan made a face – Eamon was a political ally, but he’d also allowed Isolde to mistreat Alistair horribly, and, even though Aedan hadn’t been willing to support Anora as queen, Eamon had seemed to disapprove of her in that role purely because of her origins as a commoner. If he hadn’t needed Eamon’s support at the Landsmeet, he’d certainly have made more of an issue of his shortcomings. 

For a moment, Aedan was silent, contemplating that. A thought occurred to him. “Alistair... You mentioned something about how my father was considered to take the throne instead of Cailan. And Anora did once suggest that, because I’m a Cousland, it would have made me eligible to be prince-consort...”

It took a moment for what Aedan was suggesting to sink in for Alistair. “You... you can’t be thinking that...”

“Why not? We’re both of noble blood, we’re heroes of the Blight, we love each other... Why shouldn’t we get married? It’s certainly not impossible for Ferelden to have two kings.” Technically, a king and a prince-consort, but in practice, it was unlikely that the distinction would matter. 

“I... We just kissed for the first time last night, and now you’re asking to marry me?” 

“I mean, you could consider anything from Ostagar to facing the archdemon our first date. We were just foolish enough to not recognize it until now.” 

Despite himself, Alistair couldn’t help but laugh at that. There probably was enough of a history between them, they could be easily considered to have done all the groundwork for the relationship that they’d need to justify their decision to take that step. And, really, considering the time they’d spent together in the course of fighting to stop the Blight, they could easily be said to have done the courtship matters. They’d both been there for some of the most harrowing events of their lives, facing Loghain and Howe, the men who’d destroyed their respective families. With all of that... Perhaps taking the step to make their relationship a romantic one was really just a formality. 

“I... How would it work, then? I mean... I understand the basics of it, you don’t need to explain the marriage part. Just... Eamon thinks I should have an heir. It sounds like he’s even trying to make overtures to Empress Celene.” Aedan remembered the letters they’d discovered when they’d journeyed back to Ostagar, the ones of Eamon urging Cailan to leave Anora because she hadn’t produced an heir, and the response from Celene, seeming rather familiar. It didn’t seem out of the realm of possibility that Eamon would try to convince Celene that Alistair was much like Cailan.

Still, there was a simple fact. “Alistair... Arl Eamon may be your advisor, but you are still the king. I’m the son of a Teryn who people would have supported as king. We are the Grey Wardens who stopped the Blight. There’s enough nobility in this bed alone that I don’t see how the Landsmeet would argue with us.”

“And the fact that we won’t have heirs? Wasn’t Eamon determined not to have the Theirin bloodline die out in a single generation?”

Aedan sighed. “Bloodlines are fine, but... What Ferelden needs the most is a strong leader.” He gave Alistair an affectionate smile. “And as strong as you are, I think you’re stronger with someone who loves you at your side.”

Blushing, Alistair chuckled at that. “Well, I suppose we did fight the Blight together.” It took a lot of strength to make it through something like that, after all. Also luck. They’d definitely needed a lot of luck to make it through. “Still...”

“I’m not saying that there won’t be pushback.” Mostly from Eamon, Aedan figured, considering how much work he’d put in to the idea of a Theirin heir over the years. “But... Alistair, we went this long to actually acknowledge how we felt for each other. If we don’t jump now, if we don’t...” He reached out, caressing Alistair’s face. “I don’t want to lose you. Not when we’ve managed to finally...” Abruptly, Aedan realized that he’d started crying. He’d lost so many people he’d cared about, his family wiped out by Howe and his treachery... Even if he’d found a family among those who’d joined him and Alistair to stop the Blight, or the Wardens in Amaranthine, the idea of losing Alistair, even if it was to politics and an arranged marriage, rather than death... He didn’t know if he could bear that. It might even be worse. Mother, Father, Oren, Oriana... They’d been killed. If Eamon insisted Alistair have some political marriage, if Alistair listened... Alistair would still be there, but forever out of his grasp. 

Because Aedan knew Alistair. He was loyal. A marriage would be a vow, a promise, and despite what he wanted, if he were convinced that he should be married to some poor girl who Eamon arranged things with, he’d try to live up to that particular promise. And that would mean he would end things between them. Perhaps not right away, perhaps he’d try to find an arrangement that worked for them for a time, but... Alistair would eventually make a choice. And it would leave Aedan behind. He didn’t think less of Alistair for that, knowing the responsibility that came from leading a nation, especially considering he hadn’t even had the chance to suggest that they not be together for the good of the nation or anything of the sort. 

Aedan reached out, taking Alistair’s hand. “I want to be with you, Alistair. I’ve... probably wanted it since Ostagar. And I don’t want to lose you now that we’ve finally... made it to each other.”

Alistair nodded, squeezing Aedan’s hand. “I feel the same way.” He laughed at that. “So... If you’re determined to become co-king, or... or whatever title they’re going to give you, I suppose that means that...” He drew out the pause, though he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “...you’ll have to do the paperwork as well.”

Maker... Aedan couldn’t help but laugh at that. The two of them dissolved into a ridiculous fit of giggles, one that lasted until Alistair ended up rolling on top of Aedan. 

At that point, they both remembered where they’d left things the previous night.

“I love you,” Aedan whispered.

Alistair dipped the ghost of a kiss to Aedan’s lips. “I love you too.” Then he came in for a full kiss, a hand slipping under Aedan’s tunic to touch him.

They both missed the gentle rap at the door, but couldn’t miss the surprised gasp of a servant, realizing that he’d walked in on the king and the Hero of Ferelden in a compromising position. Quickly, he ran from the room.

“Well. It appears our little secret won’t be such for long, does it?” Aedan said with a teasing grin.

“I think I might be able to live with that.”


End file.
